plume raze the sun is a tawny splash of sap. it stains the room you're standing in. you drink it with your eyes. a woman who isn't your grandmother says she can make you both disappear. too young yet to know better, you tell her you'd like that. you don't expect anything to happen. you laugh and stare into the cold stone of her face. before you can form another thought, you're gone, with nothing left to tell the world you were in it but a thin plume of smoke and the smell of burnt oranges. 250113 what's it to you? who go blather from